“Watch your mouth, honey. But yes. Holy shit.” I snort-laughed, and she did, too. “How did you know, sweetheart?”

“I saw him with another woman in New Haven this past fall. They were making out on the sidewalk outside the restaurant where I was having lunch. It was disgusting.”

“You’ve known longer than I have, then. Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”

She started to cry again. “I should’ve told you, but it was just a couple weeks before Thanksgiving, and then Christmas, and then your fiftieth . . . I’m so sorry, Mom. I wanted to, and I dreaded it, too.”

“No, no, honey. Your father is the one who did something wrong. Not you. You were between a rock and a hard place, that’s all. Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

My words made her cry even harder. “You know what I wish? I wish Dad had died. That makes me a horrible daughter, but then you’d be free, Mom. I know he’s been a pretty good dad and all that, but he ignored you for so long.” She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. “You deserve someone better.”

“That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” I said. “You know, I always felt like people looked at us and thought the opposite. Like he could’ve done better. I’m just a girl from Nowhere, Minnesota, who took some legal secretary courses. He married down. He’s a Frost from Stoningham.”

Juliet huffed, then blew her nose again. “No, Mom. You built this family. You made our home. We’re the Frosts of Stoningham because of you. It’s not his last name; it’s everything you’ve done for the past forty-plus years. You think people don’t know that? Of course they do.”

I guessed it was my turn to get all teary-eyed. “Thank you, honey.” I toyed with the ends of my bathrobe sash. “Are you worried about anything in your marriage, honey?”

She closed her eyes. “No. Yes. I mean, part of me thinks if Dad could cheat on you, then Oliver could cheat on me.” Her lips trembled a little, just as they had when she was little. “Ollie’s so wonderful, Mommy. He’s kind of perfect, and I have this stupid fear that he’s going to wake up and think, ‘Oh, my God, I could do so much better than her.’”

“There is no one better than you, Juliet,” I said firmly. “Trust me. That man adores you. He lights up when you come into a room, and I can tell you, your dad sure never did that with me. Well. Not after the first couple of years, anyway. Oliver’s different.”

She swallowed. “You think so?”

“No. I know it. Plus, I’d stab him in the soft parts if he so much as looked at another woman. But he won’t. You two are the real deal.”